


Scatter Effect

by somnivagrantTraviatus



Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, lots of zalgo text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnivagrantTraviatus/pseuds/somnivagrantTraviatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a scientifically-minded gloop meets the other man who makes up the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scatter Effect

The thing about being shattered into one’s component particles and scattered throughout the very fabric of time and space is that it is entirely impossible to be bored. For a scientist whose life had been comprised of droning monotony, broken by the intermittent ecstasy of a sudden breakthrough or confounding puzzle, it’s paradise.

Somewhere, somewhen, a tiny part of him watches a star go supernova (and he _is_ the star, dying, and all the heat and light and atoms it leaves behind) and the beginnings of the Big Bang (and he was there first and had been all along and was created in it and died in it and hasn't even been conceived yet and will never be and always will) and the first moment of life on Earth and space and elsewhere and the first steps on the moon —

_and something that is him and isn't and both and neither brushes past him, mirroring his universe-wide flinch at the contact_

— and the human (he) breaks the Barrier (him) and there are tw-t̵h̢r-tw҉̭̙̙̪̪͍̱͉- **THREE** skeletons in Snowdin-

“Ó͘҉̴h̸̴҉,” Gaster says, the words made unintelligible by their echoes in spacetime. “I҉͏t҉̀͞ ̨́͞͡l̨̀̕ǫ̵ơ͟k҉͢s҉̧̕͞ ͘͢s̷̡͟͠ǫ͘͢͝ ̶̵̡̨͘m̛̀͜҉u҉̵̷̡͝c͘͟͜͝͠h̛͘ ͏̴̴d́͘̕͝i̛f̶̧f͟͡e̷̢͘͜r̕͜͟é͘n̸̵҉҉t̡̛̀̕͟ ̶̵̡̧̢f́̕r̴̨͘̕͢ó̶̷͟m͏҉̨ ҉̵t̛͏h̨͝í͏s̢̛͢͠͡ ̸̢͏s҉͡i̡̛͟d̷̛҉̴e̛̕͜͠.̸̡̢̡͜”

Everything jolts with laughter, and, when Gaster crumples in a dead faint, the universe picks up its-his-their own slack.

_(He dreams of lotus flowers and dust spiraling ever downupward, and fondly regards the complexity of the outinnermost repetition of the fractal. A skeleton in a black hood motions questioningly at a games cabinet. “Charades,” Gaster answers immediately, the other’s grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I always was good at speaking with my hands.”)_

\---

The first question he asks when he wakes up is, “How ̵m͠a͟ny͢ t́im̢eş h̕a͘vę ̴I͞ ̡do͟n͜e ̛th͞is̢?́”

Sans blinks, starts to answer, but Gaster shushes him before he can say anything and stares firmly through space. “A͡h, ͟of̶ ̶c̴o̸ur͡s͟e.̷ ̀Yes͜,̶ ͠I ͘s͢e̷e̴ n͠ow. ̕ _Càn͞_ I̡? ̡Oo͞h,͟ ͞yès, ̢I ce͝r͞ta̕inly ҉ca͟n. This͟ be̵ars͠ ͏l̕ook͝ing into. C͜om̕e ͞al͘o̕ng.̸”

Gaster is out of bed and halfway to the door before Sans realizes that that last was to him, and the short skeleton trots a bit to catch up, sweat beading on his brow. “so-” he starts, but Gaster once again beats him to the punch.

“Ȩve͢r̴yt͞h͝in̵g̕ ͟w̧ork͜e̷d̕ ̀f̵in͡e͜.̴ ͘In fact, ͝I'm b҉ette̛r̴ t̀ḩan̷ ͠ev̀e̡r,” he reassures him. “I͡ am͠,̨ ̷at̶ ͢p͝r͜es̡en͟t.̵ Mo͡şt͡l͝y͘,͡ a͜t͝ ͜least̶.” Gaster frowns down at his lower half, brow scrunching at the gelatinous noises it makes as it slimes along the floor after him. “Th͘at͡ ͞wil͘l n҉e҉e͡d ͘to҉ c̵h̨a̵ņg͢e, o̕f c̨ơur̢s̨e,͢ ͏th͝oug͏h͜ ́I'̵v͜e tơld͏- ̶been͝ t̨o̶l̴d͢- ͏am- m͟y͏,͏ te͞nses ̶ar͝e ̛a ̕c̢hall͟en̵gȩ.̀”

Sans stares blankly at him, eye sockets scrunched at the corners in helpless confusion. The tall skeleton continues nonetheless, undaunted by the complete lack of understanding taking place. “Anyway̴.̢ ͝I͠t͜ iş ̛a ço͢ns̡eq͝ue͞nc͞e ͝o͘f c͢o͏n̢t̴a̴ct͘ ̕w̴ith͜ ̴mys͝elf̛,̨ ͜s͘o̵ I͘'m̵ ąf̛raìd ҉I s̵hal̀l ̡h͞a̧ve̵ ̧t̢o͘” - his eye lights dart over to Sans - “ _gr̀i̡ń_ ̸an͏d _barę_ ̶i̶t while I ͏àdj̷us͠t t͜o͘ ͘b͡e̶iǹg iǹ ̧o̴ne- W͝ha͜t?”

Sans’s hand is clamped firmly over his grin, though, evidently, it wasn't in time to catch the stray snigger that had interrupted the other. “ _ **bare**_ it, huh?” he asks, eyebrow ridges waggling as he eyes Gaster’s lower half.

The doctor flushes purple. “Ba̷r͝e l̀ike ba̧re͟ ̶ _bo͝ne̴s_ ,̛ ̢ýou͜ i͞nco͟r̀ri̕gi͜ble͡-”

But Sans’s shoulders are shaking with laughter, and Gaster sighs, roughly shoving him with an elbow and a tender smile. “Y҉es,” he says out loud, answering an unheard question, “t̨he̷re҉ ̴a̸re̸ ́s͟o̢mé nice͠ ̴th̴i̕ngs̷ ͡ab̨o̧ut ̧lin͡e̷ari̛t̵ý ͞a͡fţer͏ a͝ll.̴”

\---

When Gaster feels like he can exist at just one moment at a time and one place in a universe again, Sans takes him on a walk, and the tall skeleton appreciates the feel of wind against his bones and the glint of sunshine off the buildings. “It's nice,” he muses to nothing in particular, knowing he will hear it even if he can't hear himself, and Sans hums, squeezing the doctor’s hand where it's laced together with his own. Two humans pass by, one of average height and build, and the other-

A jolt of recognition passes between them, and the other man mirrors his flinch at the contact.

“It’s you,” Gaster says, needing no answer, and the other hesitates, then nods.

“W-well, kind of, p-pretty much-”

“-in all the ways that matter,” Gaster finishes for him, and the other man smiles shakily back.

“I'd say I n-never thought I'd meet you, but-”

“No, no, I completely understand. You're-”

“Yes, and you’re-”

“Well, not at the moment, but you-”

“-I know what you-”

“-Mean.” They finish the last word in tandem, eyes alight with mutual understanding and curiosity, and, having drifted closer to each other during this dizzying exchange, begin to walk together, conversing in an incomprehensible fervor about something that might be the meaning of life and might be how pretty that one star in sector E-23-Gamma-612413 looked six hundred years from now.

The other two look at each other, resigned. “welp,” Sans says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “that just happened.”

“Sure did,” the human agrees, rubbing at his forehead. “I'd say you wouldn't believe th’things I gotta deal with, working with this guy, but, uh. I ‘spect ya got the same problem.” He waves a hand at the other two, now babbling something about Hungry Hungry Hippos, and Sans laughs.

“hit the nail on the head, buddy.” He offers a hand with a grin. “i get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. what’s your name?”

The human grins back as he takes the hand, giving it a firm pump and snickering at the noise the whoopie cushion there makes as it deflates. “Call me Sleuth. You?”

“sans. sans the skeleton. nice to meet you.”

“Nah, th’pleasure’s mine.” 

Sans tucks his hand back into his hoodie. “so. got any good stories to tell while we wait for those two t’finish up?”

“Oh, boy, do I.” Sleuth chuckles wryly. “Y’wanna hear about the time I had t’defeat a demonic version of my landlord just to get outta my office?”

The skeleton blinks, and his grin slowly widens. “y’know, i can't say as i’ve ever heard that one before,” he admits. “howzit go?”

Sleuth clears his throat theatrically, and his voice is honeyed and smooth as he begins, “It all started with a bust of Ben Stiller…”


End file.
